


No Rescue

by wcdarling



Category: Vampire Chronicles - All Media Types, Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: Angst, Depressing, M/M, Sad, Vampire Chronicles, mad vampire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 13:21:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7223956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wcdarling/pseuds/wcdarling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marius wishes to correct a mistake he made and finds it is not always possible.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Answering the Call

**Author's Note:**

> Written back in 2001, this was the first VC spec of mine with which I was ever truly satisfied. It scratched an itched I had to resolve the whole Marius-regrets-making-Lestat-leave situation described in TVL. Meanwhile it also let me explore the period of decades after the end of Lestat's "lifetime" with Louis and Claudia and before he went to ground. 
> 
> Spoilers: Huge spoilers for IWTV and TVL.
> 
> Characters: Marius, Lestat.
> 
> Rating: PG.

Standing in the dark shadows of the alleyway, dressed in a suit of dark grey wool, Marius was barely distinguishable in the night. His fine white-blond hair caught the dull silver of the moonlight, but in this corner of Paris, there was no other illumination. The people here struggled to afford wood for their stoves; candles were out of the question. It was dark and silent as he stood, listening.

The house was but a block away. A burnt-out hulk, abandoned even by the desperate to whom such dwellings are normally a final place of shelter. Had Marius not been the manner of being he was, he would have given the building no notice, but in fact he knew the house was not entirely empty.

Down in the very depths, under the partially caved-in floor... in the old stone basement. Someone sitting, shivering and cold; someone Marius had once known. Someone Marius was sure he still loved.

Marius could feel the pain, the withering agony. He had felt it the moment he had entered the city looking for this one, lost to him for so many years. It was the pain that had called to him over the miles, thousands of miles, as the pain traveled up and outward through the web of the vampire spirit. Something terrible had happened, something too great to bear, and this one had been broken.

There had been no call for help. Marius wondered at this, but he had come without the call. The pain had seemed too great and the source of the pain had been too obvious. His beloved was here in Paris. He had to see him, and that was that.

Creeping around the back of the ruined house, Marius heard the tiny footfalls of rats scampering in the dark. There was also another sound, muffled but there, coming from the basement. Someone was crying.

Tentatively, wielding his skill with the utmost precision, Marius sought out the shattered spirit. With a tendril of thought, he felt out for the mind he had once known.

What he found was barely recognizable. The pain was overwhelming. How this creature was suffering! The agony was so acute that it would have taken a great deal of work to sift through the underlying thoughts, and this, after all, was only an exploratory mission.

Marius withdrew his mind for the moment, hoping he would have an opportunity to learn the cause of not only the pain, but the confusion he had found in this mind. His heart quickened and he felt a lump in his throat. What could have happened?

He edged toward the corner of the house, where a window opened to the basement, a dim light glowed and, Marius knew, his wounded prince lay, suffering from what unknown torments. Drawing up to the window and crouching down, he peered into the secret hideaway.

A few moments’ glance was nearly enough to force Marius to fall back and draw away. Instead, to avoid making any noise, he closed his eyes to the vision.

The room he had seen could not have been inhabited by humans. The floor was dirt and recent rains had left puddles of murky black water. The rudiments of rough damaged furniture were arranged haphazardly, at odd angles. A few small, broken candles burned feebly, dripping their melted wax, while a single white taper perched on a low stool in the corner. And next to the candle, in the only bright light, Marius had seen Lestat.


	2. Into the Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Chapter 1 for notes.

Eyes still closed, Marius shuddered at the first glimpse he had been allowed of his one-time confidant. The source of most of the pain was clear; there could be no mistake.

Lestat had been terribly wounded. There were scars criss-crossing every inch of his skin, scars of what could only have been a knife attack, and on top of these scars there were the scars of a fire. Marius recognized those all too well from his own experience and there was a visceral reaction within him as his body seemed to recall the fierceness of that pain. How his skin had become like paper, so fragile, and yet so tight he had felt trapped in his own body. There were other scars on Lestat’s body as well, these seemingly more recent, where bones had jutted out after being broken. What on earth had happened?

Marius opened his eyes and willed himself to examine the expression of his darkest fear. Lestat’s grey eyes were sad and hopeless as the blood tears flowed. His hands were held to his mouth, muffling the sobs that came almost silently and shook his fragile frame, a body that barely seemed capable of moving. Lestat was sitting as if crippled, and Marius knew that he truly was.

He saw the burning empty veins, stretched taut across the milky white hands and arms, and he knew that Lestat was barely able to feed himself. He was starving. And here in this dank hovel, he was not only passing the time, but hiding from a world that was too dangerous for a creature weak as himself.

Marius found his mind becoming a battlefield, with desperate conflicting emotions and desires fighting for position in his mind. He wanted to rush to Lestat immediately, hold him in his arms, and offer him his blood, but a the same time, he wanted to know above all things the answer to this question: What had happened to the invincible strong creature he had brought to his island sanctuary less than a century ago? And then, in addition to all these feelings, Marius feared the way Lestat might react to his presence. Would he be angry? Confused? Grateful? Would he even be capable of understanding anything?

He decided finally that before he proceeded further, he required more information. Laying out his mind like a blanket, he carefully, unobtrusively, let himself spread out in the chamber below to catch the thoughts of this creature who seemed too wounded to even notice.

The pain was there, roaring as it had before, but now that he knew it for what it was, Marius was ready to delve deeper and grasp specific thoughts. There were many threads, too many to grasp, but Marius knew without even sorting them that none of them were happy. Despair was what Lestat felt. Despair and utter hopelessness. A type of loneliness that was not even loneliness because Lestat lacked enough hope even to long for company, his need left gaping like an open wound.

Marius was in the process of deciding on which thought to follow when an image hit him so hard he was forced to close his eyes once more. Although it was only an image of the mind, Marius’ reflexes were still in place. There, in Lestat’s agonized mind, he had seen Amadeo. He had seen the ever-youthful face peering from the top of a tower and he knew that Lestat had been falling when he saw this face.

Armand, as Lestat called him, had pushed Lestat off that tower. He felt Lestat’s memory of hitting the ground, every bone snapping, so that to move even a few yards to escape the dawn must have been a torture.

But that was only one wound. Marius opened his eyes and he watched Lestat as he stared at his hands, fingering the scars distractedly. Silently, exerting only a slight power of suggestion, he asked Lestat to recall where those scars had come from.

Like a match set to a pool of oil, Lestat’s memory blazed with an image that nearly made Marius gasp. In the image a young blonde girl, no more than five or six, stood over Lestat, who was lying on the floor, and brought a great knife down into him again and again. Her blond curls and sweet face belied the fierce rage in her eyes.

Marius could see the face of girl and at once knew he had seen something even he had thought was unthinkable: a child vampire. Not a child in the manner of his Amadeo, but a true child. So this was the manner of creature who had delivered this act of vengeance!

 _Vengeance?_ As the word ran through his mind, Marius realized it had not been his word, but Lestat’s. The vampire child had been reaping her vengeance. But vengeance for what? He pressed Lestat’s mind just a little more. What had he done to deserve such an attack?

He suddenly saw another scene. Lestat in a richly decorated room and there, with him, the girl, pale and, Marius picked up from Lestat, newly come to the dark life. Beside her was another man, an adult as handsome in his own way as Lestat. Dark hair this one had, along with green eyes and a look that was a powerful mix of fury and despair. Lestat, it was clear, had made this defenseless creature, and he had made her with this dark-haired creature. _I made them with love_ , Marius heard Lestat gasp in his mind, _I made them in love, and what did it bring me? In the end, both of them hated me!_

Truly it had come to the worst for Lestat. Marius knew he had warned him about the making of fledglings, but there was no accounting for this disaster. For whatever reason, whether through hatred or madness or sheer desperation, these dark children, Marius knew, had cut and burned their maker. But that was far away, perhaps New Orleans or somewhere else in the New World wilderness where Marius had sent him. How had Lestat come to Paris? Where did the other wounds come from? And why, oh, gods, why had Amadeo been so cruel?

Marius’ mind was filled with questions, but he maintained control and did not press Lestat any harder than was necessary. He opened his mind to catch flashes of other thoughts. Pain and hunger colored everything, but beyond that Marius found rejection, desperation, grief.

 _Grief._ He saw a pile of ashes in the shape of a girl.

She was gone. The dark-haired one went on, he gathered from Lestat, but the girl was dead. He saw a yellow dress, spotted with blood. A coach pulled by horses up to a house on the outskirts of a city Marius knew was Paris. Amadeo living in that house, guiding Lestat up to the battlements. An argument had ensued. Amadeo would not help Lestat, he had only hatred. A hand flew out and then Lestat was falling...

Again, Marius felt the memory of those bones breaking.

Lestat was beginning to become a bit confused, agitated, he realized suddenly. His mind was not functioning on any rational level, but it seemed that, instinctively, he knew that there had been some sort of intrusion into his mind. Marius withdrew and wrapped a shield around his thoughts, diving back into the shadows lest Lestat glance up and see the face of his former savior appear in the window.


	3. Dreams of Redemption

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Chapter 1 for notes.

Marius turned and began to walk quickly down the dark street. There was no direction to his walk, only a driving desire to get _away_. Down and down into the blackest corners he went, arriving at last in a dead-end alley without a single light. As Marius crept into the dark and sat on the cold ground, leaning against a rough stone wall he could not see, his thoughts were on Lestat, whose world was yet colder, yet harsher, yet darker. He sat in penance as he pondered his options.

He had come to Paris in answer to a call or, truly, a wrenching pain that could not be suppressed. He had expected trouble, but to find Lestat like this — half-mad, burnt, scarred, broken, hardly able to feed himself?

It was as great a shock to Marius as when Lestat had woken the Mother with his violin. And as he thought on it now, maybe this shock was even greater. After all, Marius told himself, he should have been able to predict that Lestat would be unable to obey his orders. But this calamity? Lestat, that "damndest creature," had been so bold, so full of energy, ready to take on the world. Now here he was living in a dark cellar, a husk of himself. He was indeed a creature damned.

The jumble of Lestat’s mind haunted Marius, as did the pain. _No matter the cause, what savagery had been inflicted upon this one_ , Marius thought. _What unmeasured cruelty!_ That Lestat had even survived was, Marius knew, entirely due to the influence of his own powerful blood and that of Akasha. Barring that, Lestat would have died the first time, during the stabbing. There would have been no burning, no body falling off a tower at the hand of his beloved Amadeo.

Perhaps it would have been better if he _had_ died.

Marius wept now, not even covering his face with his hands, so that the blood tears streamed down his face and caught the chill of the night air.

_No, it would_ not _have been better_ , Marius thought. Lestat would _not_ be better dead because he wanted Lestat. How he wanted him — alive, whole, the beautiful devilish angel he had been in the eighteenth century. How could he have ever let him go?

The inner dialogue continued. _No, that is_ not _what happened!_ Marius’ mind screamed, I did not _let_ him go, I _forced_ him to go.

_I told him to go away and seek his fortune. Against every fiber of my being, I told him to go and live a "human lifetime," I told him he had upset the Mother and the Father, I told him I needed to protect my secret, but those were... excuses? No, they were all true, but oh, what a lie it had been all the same! The weight of my desire should have tipped the scale, and yet I did not allow it._

He beat the hard ground beside him in fury. He wanted to scream but there were those nearby who would hear him. Oh, it was enough to make him want to fly to the heavens and cry out against the useless, uncaring gods he didn’t believe in! He had had a feeling and it had been strong, but as always, he had let his reason overtake it.

He remembered Pandora’s words, spoken when he was still at the beginning of the long dark road: "Don’t be so fanatical in your dedication to reason." She had warned him, hadn’t she? She had seen his doom so clearly, all those years ago. "If you so cling to reason, then in the passage of time reason may fail you, and when it does you may find yourself taking refuge in madness."

Ah, well, surely he had been mad to deny Lestat as he had.

Pandora, Marius conceded in his heart, had been right, and of course she would have known. Had he not, in his devotion to reason and to the Mother and the Father, turned her away in the very same manner? He had been unwilling to give in to her passions or those of the world around him.

Many centuries later, he had faced the same dilemma with his Amadeo, only that time, he had _lost_ his reason.

Common sense had cautioned him against becoming too involved, against sharing his blood, and, above all, against bringing that fragile adolescent over to darkness too soon. In the end Marius had lost the battle. He could not deny his Amadeo anything, because his passions had run too high. What had been the result? As much as he loved Amadeo and as much as he treasured the few years they had shared together, Marius knew that in many ways he had been Amadeo’s ruin.

His mind switched finally to the matter at hand: Lestat. What should he have done and, ye gods, what should he do now?

The answer to the first half of the question blazed suddenly in his mind: He should never have let him go! Pandora had been lost and Amadeo had been lost and then he had been so abominably blind and stupid to throw Lestat away as well.

He couldn’t get Pandora back, Marius thought — but for that brief encounter three centuries before, he’d lost her — and Amadeo was certainly in no state to be retrieved... so why not make the same mistake three times? Why not take Lestat back? Whatever the obstacles, they could be overcome. The important thing was, he had to take a chance.


	4. Rescue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Chapter 1 for notes.

By the time Marius returned to peer into the old cellar, all the smaller candles had burnt themselves out. Only the taper in the corner remained burning, its wax slung down on the seat of the stool and coiling down off the edge. Lestat was no longer sitting nearby, but was instead lying full length on the floor, hands pressed together on his chest. An attitude of prayer. In the dim light he saw that Lestat was soundlessly mouthing some words, but he could not hear what they were. He opened his mind and heard:

"Oh, God — God that I do not believe in — God, if you are watching, I want you to listen to me! I want to tell you that I hate you! See what has become of me! My Nicolas gone! My Claudia gone! Everyone else abandons me. Are you laughing at me in my wretchedness? Well, don’t laugh! Please, God, don’t laugh. Just let me be. Please, Lord, hear my prayer."

Marius was stunned. Lestat was praying! On the one hand, it made it seem as if Lestat was losing his mind -— would the old Lestat ever have prayed in such a way? On the other hand, however, it meant that Lestat’s mind was actually improving. These words were lucid. Perhaps his consciousness was improving. Now would be a good time to come and talk to Lestat. Marius approached the window and, with a gentle thud, landed on his feet in the basement.

The candle flickered slightly but if Lestat noticed it, he made no sign. Marius approached the corner. When he was only a few feet away, Lestat still had not noticed him. He stood and held out his hands.

"Lestat, I have come."

Marius watched, as in an instant, Lestat’s gaze shifted from the ceiling, his face melting in an expression of pure shock. His hands went to his face and then quickly, more quickly than Marius would have supposed possible, he rose from where he had been lying and threw himself into the corner. His back pressed up against the wall, he was shaking and, Marius realized with surprise, in an absolute state of terror.

"Oh, Marius, oh, oh..." Lestat sobbed through his hands. "I -— oh, please, Marius -— I didn’t mean to, I didn’t -— oh, Marius, please, I swear, I’m sorry, I’m sorry..." he moaned, beginning to rock side to side, shaking his head. "Don’t think I didn’t listen. I tried to listen, but instead I -— I did so many things wrong."

Marius had crouched down beside Lestat and now, as the wounded vampire’s sobs grew too violent for any words to be distinguished, he took Lestat in his arms.

Lestat stiffened, and Marius knew it was in fear. Only Lestat’s utter infirmity was preventing him from escape.

"Lestat, Lestat," Marius said softly, speaking into the golden hair. "I would never hurt you. Never." He kissed the scarred cheek. It tasted of blood tears.

"I love you, Lestat."

"How can you love me? _How?_ " Lestat pulled away and gestured to his ruined face, held up his hands, criss-crossed with scars. "Do you know what I did? Do you?

"I took the ‘lifetime’ as you directed me but what a mess I made of it. I tried not to. I _tried_ to be good. But I made mistakes..."

As Lestat returned to crying, Marius caught a flood of images. The blonde-haired child vampire with her knife. "I’ll put you in your coffin, Father," she had said. Cold words, wicked words...

Blood leaking everywhere, all over the floor, until Lestat was just a husk, and then the darkness came down. Marius saw through Lestat’s eyes. He was in the earth, a wet and dark place. A swamp. Lestat had survived by eating the animals. Again, that same house and again the child. The black-haired vampire was there as well. Marius saw a lamp and then there were flames.

_Mistakes, Marius, so many mistakes,_ Lestat said in his mind.

"It’s all right, Lestat," Marius murmured. "It’s all right. You’re alive now, everything will be all right."

Lestat shook his head.

"No, no, no, look at me! I went to Armand, your Amadeo, and he -— well, you must know what he did. He was angry, beastly. He threw me off a tower. He nearly killed me. They’ve all tried to kill me.

"But they can’t."

"The blood of Akasha," whispered Marius. As he said the name, Lestat grew tense.

"Akasha!" he gasped. "I had... almost forgotten. Another world." He closed his eyes. "It seems like... a dream," he murmured. "So young and beautiful. The world was yet so new."

Marius suddenly remembered something. "You never told anyone, did you?" he asked, trying to speak with an even tone.

Lestat’s eyes opened.

"No, Marius, no, never. I thought I would go mad from knowing, but I didn’t. The secret is safe. Who will I tell now?"

Marius took Lestat in his arms once more. "No one, Lestat, no one. I have come. You can be with me. I will rescue you. And to begin with, I will give you my blood."

Lestat’s eyes opened wide and so did his mind: _Your blood._ Marius knew what it was to be a starving suffering vampire. He would not let this agony go on for one moment longer than necessary. Pulling his collar to the side, he offered the vein and pressed it to Lestat’s lips. Marius felt the lips open and then the fangs reached out and clamped down. Lestat began to drink down in hungry gulps.

_Take as much as you require_ , Marius told him silently. _As much as you require_.


	5. Awakening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Chapter 1 for notes.

The candle caught the gold of the long tangled hair, even through the dust, as Marius gently pressed the back of Lestat’s head, holding his mouth to the wound. He was going to give Lestat a good strong measure. Lestat was going to recover from this disaster.

"Drink, my young one, my wounded one," he said, his voice filled with the utmost tenderness.

These were the very words he had spoken in Cairo less than a century ago, Marius knew. Another rescue, another time, actually not so long ago, not in immortal time. This time would be different, he assured himself.

But suddenly Lestat stiffened. Marius felt the two fang teeth withdraw. Lestat pulled away, pushing Marius with both hands. Weak as he was, he managed to knock Marius’ head against the wall with a thud. On his face was a look of pure fury.

"What is it, Lestat?" Marius asked, knowing that he probably didn’t want to hear the reply.

Lestat narrowed his eyes. " _You!_ " he spat. "You come to me, here to rescue me from this filthy hole. After all I have been through, you come and hold out your arms. You say ‘Drink’ and give me your blood and you tell me everything will be fine, just fine...

"Well, you said that before! Remember Cairo, Marius? Do you remember?"

Marius was shocked by this sudden rage but managed to nod his head. "I remember, Lestat. I remember very well."

"Ha!" Lestat barked. His voice was hoarse from lack of use.

"Oh, yes, I’m sure you do. You probably look back on that as the last interesting thing you’ve done in decades. Yes, fine, come down from your castle and rescue the young vampire, give him your blood, tell him your glorious vampire history, tell him how much you love him and then MAKE HIM GO AWAY!"

Lestat screamed these last words and staggered to his feet. Exerting himself in a way that was painful to watch, he began to pace back and forth. The blood had had some effect on him, that was clear, but he was still terribly wounded. Lestat paced to the far side of the room and then whirled to face Marius.

"It’s easy for YOU, Marius! But what has happened to ME since then? Do you know? Have you been sifting through my mind?

"I admit I am falling into madness. This moment now is the first moment of clarity I have had in I don’t know how long! Perhaps it is my last. Because do you know what happened when I went to live my ‘lifetime’ in Louisiana? Do you know?"

Lestat had come closer and by now he was standing over Marius, looking down, the candlelight catching his face with eerie shadows. He shook his head and let out a long bitter laugh.

"I went to Louisiana, where my father was. I fell in love with an exquisitely beautiful plantation owner and quickly, so very quickly, I brought him to me."

Lestat’s mind flashed an image; again, Marius saw the black-haired one with the green eyes.

"We lived together. But it was difficult, so much more difficult than I had imagined. I loved him, you see, but I was afraid. Because... and I understand this only now, I didn’t understand it then... I was afraid because everyone I had ever loved before had pushed me away. And so I loved him but I kept him at a distance."

Again Lestat’s eyes narrowed, apparently remembering some lost train of thought. "And do you know another reason why it was so difficult?"

"Why?" Marius asked, already guessing the answer.

"Because of the pledge you had forced me to make. Never tell those stories. Not even if your children beg. I kept my lips sealed, Marius, but oh, how I wished you had never told me. So much easier it would have been. But no, I had to keep everything a secret. I never even told him where I came from.

"And I... was cruel to him, as I said. I was cruel because I wanted to protect myself even though I wanted nothing more than to give everything to him, to share every part of myself. But I could not."

"Lestat, I’m sorry I told you-—" Marius began.

"No, stop!" Lestat cried, pointing his finger. "I’m not through yet." His voice had grown quiet and there was a pained expression on his face. "Here is where the pain truly begins."


	6. No Thanks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Chapter 1 for notes.

"My Louis did not understand that I loved him, and he was about to run away from me. I had forced him away! And do you know what I did then?"

"Yes," Marius said quietly, thinking of the golden-haired child he had seen in Lestat’s mind, over and over.

Lestat staggered backward. "Oh, Marius! I... admit you were right, but at the time it seemed the only choice. Louis had not been drinking from humans, only rats. He could not bear it — imagine! Finally he found this little girl and he nearly killed her and I... to draw him to me, to keep him with me, I... brought her home. I offered her to Louis, I offered this perfect little girl to my Louis, and he took her. And then I..." Lestat flashed his eyes to Marius, "I did what you had warned me against.

"I made her a vampire."

Marius nodded. "I saw it in your mind earlier."

"Blast your mind-reading! Do you know what happened? No, I don’t think so. You were away, no doubt in some far-off land tending your statues!"

Marius felt the words like a blow. Indeed he had had no idea what Lestat had been doing. He had been living in the far north, isolated from nearly everyone, dead or undead.

"Well, let me tell you what happened. We lived together for sixty years. Some of that time was beautiful, Marius. New Orleans was a great place to be a vampire. We had a lovely home, the two gentleman and their eternally youthful daughter. We talked and laughed, went to the opera, went to plays.

"But all along, understand, things were not right. I had to lie and protect your secrets, and what was worse, even after Claudia..." Lestat paused, apparently surprised he had spoken the name aloud. "Even after _her_ , I was cruel to my Louis. My love grew, understand, but everything festered until at last, there was an end."

"She attacked you," Marius said gently.

"Yes. You saw it in my mind?" Lestat asked. Marius nodded and Lestat sighed. "Yes, Marius, she attacked. She tried to kill me once, then when I came back, she tried it AGAIN! And do you know why?"

"Why?" Marius knew that at this juncture there was no point in asking real questions, so he let Lestat go on.

"Because I deserved it! I was wicked! Claudia had plenty of reason to resent me. Think on it — she was a woman, more than sixty years old, and yet she had the body of a child. She had never known human life, had no memory of human life, no memory of a mother or a father or mortal friends. All she knew was life as a little killer, life with her vampire fathers who fought and fought. And so finally she wanted to escape me and even more, to punish me. She loved Louis, so she left him alone, but me... she had to punish."

Lestat had exhausted himself by standing for so long and now he slid down into a chair. He rubbed his eyes and glared at Marius. "Are you getting bored with my story yet?"

"No, Lestat, I’m listening." Marius tried to be as gentle as possible. He knew was in trouble, but perhaps somehow he could rescue himself. "I want to hear it in your words. Images are not enough."

"Fine," Lestat said flatly. "Well, I nearly died. Obviously." Again he made a broad gesture to indicate the scars and burns that covered his body. "It was years that I could barely survive, could barely kill, and then only the weakest. And then finally I went to Armand." Lestat gave Marius a significant look. Armand, Marius’ lost child.

"I went to Paris," Lestat continued. "I was barely fit to travel but I needed the blood. And so I came here... a few months ago, I don’t know how long ago really, and I went to Armand, who was living at the fortress I had been given by Magnus. I came to him and told him my story.

"I... didn’t tell him that Claudia had been a child. Even I knew that I deserved punishment for what I had done. So I told him my story and suddenly he whisked me into Paris and told me that my Louis and Claudia were here, at the Theatre of the Vampires!"

Lestat leaned back in his chair and stared up at the ceiling. "I am not going to tell the rest of the story. Not in detail. There was pain. There was punishment. They wanted to kill Louis and Claudia because they had broken the ‘rules’ and tried to kill their maker. There was a trial. I was starving, half-mad, I don’t remember, and then they learned that Claudia was the one and they took me away. Then they killed Claudia, they put her out into the sun."

Tears spilled from beneath Lestat’s fingers, which he had pressed on his face, covering his eyes.

"They killed her."

"What you have been through, Lestat," Marius whispered, "is more than most could bear. What you —"

"No!" Lestat growled. "I’m not through. Next... what was I saying? Yes, next, and here’s the best part of it. Next Armand took me back to the fortress and there I begged him, begged him for the blood. I wanted the blood, you see, to repair my wounds. But instead of healing me, he threw me down off the tower and broke me. Broke everything. He was angry from before. I did not love him, he said, and so he threw me. Why must everyone reject me? I was mad, I was dying, how could he...?"

Lestat suddenly waved his hand. "Ah, but everyone mistreats me, leaves me, _sends me away_. Which is why I suddenly question your presence here. You should know that I haven’t called you."

"I realize that," Marius said quietly. "I felt your pain half way around the world."

"Felt my pain?" Lestat cried. "Oh, Marius, I don’t think you know. Sitting here, just _sitting_ here, is pain. My bones are barely mended."


	7. Fade to Black

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter. See Chapter 1 for notes.

Marius reached out and grasped Lestat’s wrist. "But, Lestat, it can be restored. My blood will give you back your life. As I said before, you may take as much as you require." He rose and looked down at Lestat.

_Do you know how much I love you?_

Lestat, who had been meeting Marius’ eyes all along, slowly looked away.

Mechanically he spoke: "No, I don’t know. If you loved me, you would not have let me go in the first place. Or if you had, you would not have poisoned me with your secrets. Love me? No, you didn’t. Only in my dreams."

As he had spoken, his words had faded to a bare whisper. The powerful blood was losing its effect and Lestat was slipping back into the haze in which Marius had found him.

Tugging on Lestat’s hand, Marius spoke.

"What can I say, Lestat? I was a fool. I made a fool’s decision. I will admit that. I will admit _anything_ , so long as you will let me rescue you. Take my blood and come with me. Leave Paris, leave the memories behind. You will be reborn."

Lestat did not turn his eyes. His gaze was listless as he spoke. "A tempting offer, Marius, one I have pictured in dreams. Which is why I must refuse you. What is the use of accepting? This is but another dream. I have been dreaming for months now. The dreams are always so real."

Lestat had lost his momentary lucidity and had returned back to the land of unfocused dreaming and pain. He came down out of the chair and onto the floor, where he lay on his side. His voice had grown weak, and so he spoke with his mind.

_Claudia has visited me. Louis. Over and over I see things._

_This is another vision, you, Marius, come to me here in Paris. I am probably sleeping on the floor, all the candles burnt out, and you are away keeping your shrine, unaware that anything at all has gone wrong._

_You are not here. You have never been here._

Cupping his hands over his mouth, Marius began to cry. Lestat had closed his eyes and may as well have been dead. Too late for rescue, it seemed. He kneeled down beside the body and laid his hand on Lestat’s shoulder. It was time for a spell, something to make him forget, something to make him remember.

_Sleep, my wounded beauty. This was only a dream, a marvelous dream. But remember, Lestat, I do love you, and I will wait for you. Call when you need me._

Marius paused, thinking what else he could say.

_May you be restored with time and may you find the strength to go on. Go into the earth if you must, but go on. Do not end it. One day, you will rise again._

No change in Lestat’s face. If he had received the message, there was no sign. Marius bent and kissed the blood-stained cheeks, so gaunt and pale. He rose and looked about him. The candle would only last a few more minutes. Reaching into his coat, he took out some gold coins and left a pile on the small table. At least Lestat could buy more candles and perhaps even a boat trip someday. There was nothing else that could be done.

"I love you, but I must leave you," Marius said finally.

He glanced down at Lestat, still unmoving, and his heart shrank in pain.

Out the window, back into the streets, and then widening the distance, walking farther and farther until he reached a open space where he could disappear into the sky unnoticed. As he flew through the nighttime sky of Paris, he knew there would be no rescue. For Lestat or himself.

**THE END**


End file.
